


Suruga Flame

by Zaphirite



Series: Sagashimonogatari [1]
Category: Bakemonogatari, Monogatari series - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Ghosts, Oddities, Rainy Devil, Supernatural Elements, abberations, light gay undertones, mythical creatures, that don't stay dead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2019-11-15 19:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18079709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zaphirite/pseuds/Zaphirite
Summary: “Maybe I am just plain old water. But that is still enough.”Kanbaru Suruga has to decide her future. So why won’t the past stop coming back to haunt her?(Takes place after Hana and Suruga Bonehead)





	1. 001

“If you can’t be medicine, be poison - otherwise you’ll just become water.”

Those words, the sound of her voice, always comes back to me in my dreams, like ripples on water.

It feels like I always start and end big parts of my life with those words.

Kanbaru Toee, my mother, is often present in my dreams. Her voice is clear, and I can see her expression that never seems to match what she’s trying to say. Unlike my precious senpai Senjougahara Hitagi who says odd things because she forgot how to express herself properly, my mother expressly said things she might not have even understood herself.

Like that she was a loving mother.

I don’t recall her ever being loving or doting by any normal standards. A mother that called her child “stupid girl” or “born weak” would be considered the opposite of that.

Verbal abuse, you could say.

The most abusive thought being that she also said she loved me.

Will love. Loves. Has loved.

You could also say a parent will never stop loving their child unconditionally. I wonder if that was continually true for the both of them.

They felt they loved each other to elope.

Then they died together in a car crash, still stuck together as ever.

Will die. Dies. Has died.

There once was a study on the nature of love between parent and child - an American scientist named Harry Harlow put infant monkeys with two fake surrogate mothers - one made of cold iron and spikes that provided food, and one cloth doll that provided comfort. It was found that despite needing food to live, the monkeys would seek the cloth doll the majority of the time. It was touch, not taste, that creates the bond between mother and infant, and it was touch that continues to grow that bond into something memorable and lasting.

It also sparked the need for new ethical standards for animals in science. The man became a monster when the same depression he was studying took himself over.

My own mother’s standards of love was like an incomprehensible language lost in translation.

I was a child, not a scientist.

And yet I still hear her talking to me in my dreams or in passing visions.

Maybe one day I’ll go mad. Maybe one day I’ll forget about her.

I live in a traditional Japanese style house with my paternal grandparents, so we don’t hang framed pictures on the entryway walls. There are pictures of her that exist, packed away safely in an album and kept in a cedar wood box.

I know which box has those photos of her, but I never bothered to seek them for a long time now. Photos of her, of my father, of us as a family.

Stored and passed onto me the same way the Rainy Devil’s left hand.

I could ponder if that’s why I never bothered to look for those photos to refresh my muddy memories. But in the end, would that change anything?

You could say I’m running away from the problem, like I used to do with the Rainy Devil or with Akuma-sama — with Numachi.

Could, would, should.

Thinking about the meaning behind things wasn’t like me anyway.

I can run fast in my current form, but I can’t seem to outrun my mother. Even if I don’t think of her, others do. Like a shadow cast over me. Almost like how Shinobu-chan is living in Araragi-senpai’s shadow.

Almost.

Instead of giving me immortality and a cute companion, my mother gave me—

...I don’t know what she left for me.

Physically, she left me the Rainy Devil’s hand.

As a parent she gave me part of my life, my genetic structure.

As a Gaen, she’s left a legacy - acquaintances of hers drift in and out of my life in consideration for her, not me.

And in my dreams, these sayings she insists are lessons to be learned.

Yet she herself didn’t leave me any family.

“If you can’t be medicine, be poison. Otherwise you’ll just become water.”

I told her once that I was clear as mud. But the question came up again in my dreams because it’s being asked of me.

As a third year at Naoetsu Private High School, everyone is asking me what I’ll become. I’m studying for university entrance exams, but beyond that I didn’t know exactly what the future holds for me.

That’s the answer I have yet to find.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sagashimono (捜し物) - A thing being sought.


	2. 002

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated whether to keep holding onto chapters until I finished writing a couple more, but decided to post chapter 2 at least to see if people are interested where it’s going :3c updates from here will continue to be slow, gomen.

I don’t mean to sound so serious, but everyone around me has started focusing on their own individual goals. It’s only natural I would feel a little isolated.

Study groups for those applying to the same college or trade school.

Those who had a career they decided on. Those who decided to wing their future. Those who decided they had no future. 

Those that weren’t changing their ways - it just means they already decided. 

Whether they had a solid plan or not, they were convicted to a decision. 

Higasa invited me to go to the basketball team’s after school practice, same as always. She was as easy going as ever, but even her future was set.

“Wherever I can get in and keep playing on a team, I’ll just decide from there.”

Even those with no plans had a plan. 

Higasa was that kind of carefree, malleable type of girl. Give her a position and she’ll cover it, be it offence or defense. That’s what made her fit to be point guard and eventual team manager after my early retirement. 

Even if she didn’t have plans to seriously pursue basketball in the future, you have to admit she magically kept the team glued and fit after I left. She really was good. 

The kanji for sun parasol, then the kanji for star and rain. 

Seiu Higasa. A girl built for any weather, any time. 

Able to create openings whenever an opportunity pops up. 

No wonder she’s not worried at all. 

I’m sure my seniors would have expected me to be like her, but in fact I’m nothing like her. Sure, we are companions and former teammates in the same sport, in the same class in the same year, but it ends there. 

“‘Ruga, pass!”

Like instinct, I threw up my hands to catch the ball shot my way before I fully left my thoughts. I was dribbling it before I realized where it came from and where I should pass it.

But it was just us two as the team was warming up with laps. 

I was more than fit enough to join in, but I wasn’t invited to.

People perceive injuries in one location as if they were the whole body. While it’s true that a fracture or tear never completely heals as if it never happened, it doesn’t make your entire body more fragile. 

And in my case, there was no fracture to begin with. 

But no one else here knew this, and so the lie became its own scar, visible in the way the team members hesitated before they spoke to me.

Only Higasa treated me the same as ever. Maybe she had an inkling that it wasn’t just an injury. Maybe she didn’t. 

The fact that I decided to quit is just another thing she adapted to. But she still maintained that connection with me just the same, keeping me updated on her happenings and checking in on mine. Inviting me along even though I’ve declined many times before. 

Refusing to let go.

For a girl that called herself shy, she was truly outgoing. 

I dribbled the ball, reading her stance. She was ready to respond to whatever I chose to do. She followed my gaze as I looked from her, to the team still running laps, to the ball I was guarding closely. 

By the way, her nickname in middle school was Sun Parasol - just the translation for her name in English, but it really did fit her.

I faked right and tried to loop left around her. She matched my pace as if reading my mind with the same bright smile. Muscle memory kicked in and I dodged her first swipe, ducking under her arm and running left to give me some space. It took her a moment to spin around and find me. I glanced over my shoulder to where I expected her to catch up to me -

And like the curved hook handle of a parasol, she snaked her hand to steal the ball without even touching my body from my other side, before I could return my gaze. 

But my legs were faster. I already moved mine before hers, moving to her side and scooped the ball away mid-dribble.

I tried to shoot a free throw from my angle.

It rolled around the rim before falling to the right and off the net.

I’m not that smart, not enough to make a match sound exciting, but believe me when I say that felt like both an instant and an eternity. 

A duel of sorts, like cowboys at high noon. 

Apparently, while we were messing around, the team finished their laps and were watching us go at it. The girls cheered, probably happy to see I still got it. 

Whatever “it” was at this point. I spent so long bound to the Devil’s arm that it was hard to remember what I was like before it. And now that I am free-

I realized I didn’t miss basketball as much anymore.

I loved it, and still do, don’t get me wrong - but now that I don’t fear giving into wishing on the Devil’s arm anymore, I don’t have a need to prove I can be strong without its help anymore. 

So maybe that’s why I hesitated to come back.

But Higasa was right, it was nice seeing the old team after so long. That part I did kinda miss. 

They moved on to passing drills. I watched them alongside Higasa, taking in the chatter as they caught their breaths. 

“Ah, you’re into spooky rumours, right ‘Ruga? Like the Akuma-sama one from a few months ago.”

Higasa jogged up to one of the newer members, waving her arm in the air. 

“Hey Miki-chan, tell Suruga about the ghost stories you first years are talking about!”

“Oh,” the first year said in surprise. She spun the ball in her hands, fingers dancing around the surface as if she was mapping out the story. 

It started with a small fire, she said. 

One so small you’d think it was a tea candle. A toy. 

But it burned so brilliantly bright in the dark. 

Story goes a few different people have witnessed these lights. If you approached, a cloud of dust kicked up and the light would disappear. 

If you actually investigated the exact spot where it was, you’d find a small pile of splintered bone. The first time it seemed like someone’s campfire after a good fishing day. Just a pile of thorn-like fish bones. 

But recently, there’s been more frequent sightings. 

And the bones have been getting bigger each time. 

Fish. Rodent. Fowl. As they got bigger they became harder to identify.

Word is, if you get caught by the fire before it escapes, it will burn you till only ash and bone remained. Or maybe it’s a monster who has been growing, eating larger and larger prey. 

Higasa laughed, like the way normal people would at such a story. 

But I-

After witnessing devils and vampires and true stories of crabs and cats and snakes and fakes and the real deal-

I knew in my gut that this was real. 

I don’t know how. Why. What proved it. 

I just knew.

I laughed with Higasa. The other team mates all laughed. 

I tried to ignore that feeling and move on with practice. A pang of loneliness sat heavy in my throat. 

But I did my best regardless. 

I had to. 

But the feeling sat with me the whole day and would not leave even as I sunk into the hot bath at home, only intensifying the heat that flushed my skin. 

I tried to cleanse my brain and think about anything else. 

Maybe I should head to the library - no, the study aids are probably all checked out except for the reference section, and I didn’t really feel like making it a habit to go back every day. 

So I needed to make a list of which ones I needed to buy.

Or maybe I could ask Araragi or Senjougahara-senpai if they had anything they could lend me. I didn’t want them to worry about me, so I haven’t asked for help yet. But I could allow this much. 

And there was still the matter of the fire rumors. 

Both of them helped deal with the last fire oddity, back last year around this time. Hanekawa-senpai had her own battle with fire. I didn’t help much, just warned Senjougahara-senpai. 

Do I want to drag them back into oddities when they’ve graduated from this small town and it’s strange stories?

...It’s no use. 

Sighing, I sat back up and threaded my fingers through my shoulder-length hair. Growing it was always such a pain.

As my fingers hit a tangle, I looked down in the water’s surface to get a better look-

And over my shoulder, I saw a waterfall of bleached brown hair, with curls like horns. 

“!!!!”

I splashed awkwardly, yanking my hands out of my hair to get a grip on the edge of the bath.

“Don’t turn around.”

Her hand - not the Rainy Devil’s hand, but Numachi Rouka’s own, thin, human hand - held my head in place.


End file.
